


Forgiveness

by Guanin



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Guilt, M/M, Other, post-Armageddon-That-Wasn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: It hit Aziraphale while eating afters. A dull tugging of his mood downwards, the gleeful cheer that had shone inside him withering like the sudden death of the light after the sun dipped fully beneath the horizon. He had been so happy a moment before. The cake he’d ordered was scrumptious, as had been their meal. Crowley, alive and well at his side, entertained him with an amusing anecdote about his days living in Thebes. They were both safe. Armageddon had been averted with humanity none the wiser. Despite everything promising the failure of their hopes (and their lives), they had emerged victorious.So why did he feel so miserable?





	Forgiveness

It hit him while eating afters. A dull tugging of his mood downwards, the gleeful cheer that had shone inside him withering like the sudden death of the light after the sun dipped fully beneath the horizon. He had been so happy a moment before. The cake he’d ordered was scrumptious, as had been their meal. Crowley, alive and well at his side, entertained him with an amusing anecdote about his days living in Thebes. They were both safe. Armageddon had been averted with humanity none the wiser. Despite everything promising the failure of their hopes (and their lives), they had emerged victorious. Not that they had done much, but every little bit helped. Butterfly effects and all that. 

So why did he feel so miserable?

“Aziraphale?”

Kicking himself for his distraction, Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was peering at him with concern.

“Are you okay?” Crowley asked. “You haven’t finished your cake.”

Aziraphale looked down at his plate, where half a cake slice lied, uneaten. For how long had his fork sat idly in his hand? It was most unlike him to stop eating while he still had delicious food on his plate.

“I’m alright,” he said, forcing a smile while spearing a portion of cake on his fork.

Why did he need to force that smile? Should it not be innate? Was he no longer happy?

Of course he was. He was most glad. Relieved. Satisfied at the scare he had given those demons in Hell after what they had tried to do to Crowley. He just wasn’t giddy anymore. Giddiness never lasted long, anyway. And since he was no longer giddy, his current emotional state resembled sadness in comparison, but it wasn’t truly sorrow. What possible reason could he have to feel that way? 

“Are you sure?” Crowley asked, leaning on his elbows on the table. “We have just been through a lot. My mind still hasn’t settled from everything that happened.”

Aziraphale ate his cake a tad quicker than before. 

“I’m fine. I guess my mind is settling, so I’m not so giddy anymore. But I’m still very happy that everything turned out well and that you’re safe.”

A genuine smile warming his lips, Aziraphale laid his hand on Crowley’s on the table, his touch tentative but certain. This form of touch was still very new between them. They had only held hands for the first time last night while Aziraphale sought refuge at Crowley’s flat. A thrill of excitement shot through him at the feel of Crowley’s skin and the fond smile that curled Crowley’s lips. 

“Me, too,” Crowley said.

An inordinate amount of relief flushed through Aziraphale when Crowley let the matter drop.

“Shall we go pick up your car, then?” Aziraphale said quickly before Crowley changed his mind. “You could drive me to my shop, if you don’t mind.”

A wide grin brightened Crowley’s face.

“Why would I mind?” he asked, practically bouncing in excitement at the prospect of seeing his newly reconstituted vehicle. “I’d drive to the end of the world with you.”

The sudden flush in Crowley’s cheeks and his quick look down indicated that he hadn’t meant to say something so boldly romantic. Aziraphale warmed, touched, and squeezed Crowley’s hand. How could he have been so foolish as to waste so much time with him?

“If only you could have, dear,” he said. “Although I’d prefer somewhere less dire next time.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Crowley shifted in his seat and raised his free hand for the bill, but he didn’t move his hand from beneath Aziraphale’s. 

``````````````

It was a short walk from the Ritz to Crowley’s place. The instant that Crowley spotted his Bentley, he sprinted the rest of the way, shoving pedestrians out of the way. Aziraphale scoffed in disapproval, but Crowley was incorrigible. Hellish affiliation or not, he was a demon, after all. Just like Aziraphale was an angel.

He was still an angel, wasn’t he? He had been fine and dandy in holy water, so he was most certainly not Fallen. But could one be exiled from Heaven and truly be an angel? But if he wasn’t an angel, then what was he? 

“My beautiful car!” Crowley cried from the other side of the street.

Aziraphale shook himself. He sucked in a breath. Why was that dark feeling from the Ritz back again? Sure, he may have edged the slightest bit into an existential crisis, but there was no need to be so dramatic about it. Of course he was an angel. It wasn’t just a position. It was the core of his being, just like a human couldn’t help but be human. 

Yet an angel could become a demon. 

“Angel!” Crowley called.

Jumping, Aziraphale raised his gaze from where it had been resting on the pavement. His attention had drifted again. And just at the moment when Crowley was reconnecting with his beloved car. Aziraphale should be enjoying this moment along with him, not being a sad sack worrying about nothing. Crowley was half draped over the Bentley’s hood like a blanket, holding onto it with possessive fingers. Under any other circumstances, Azirphale would have thought he looked ridiculous, but who was he to forbid Crowley from expressing his joy in whatever flamboyant way he chose?

“What are you still doing over there?” Crowley asked. “Get over here.”

“In a jiffy,” Aziraphale called, smiling in apology. 

Checking that there were no cars coming, he crossed the street and joined Crowley beside the car, wiping all distress from his expression.

“It has been perfectly restored, hasn’t it?” he asked.

Grinning, Crowley laid his head on the hood, stroking it with loving fondness. 

“She’s magnificent,” he purred. “I’ve missed her so much.”

Happiness flowered inside Aziraphale upon seeing Crowley’s joy. 

“Come on,” Crowley said, hopping to his feet and dancing to the driver’s door, opening it. “Let’s go to your bookshop. You must be going mad waiting to see it.”

Oh, yes. Most desperately. When Crowley had told him that his bookshop had burned down, he had been so griped with sorrow that Armageddon completely slipped his mind. It would be so good to see it restored. Just the thing to shake off this pesky gloom clinging to him.

“Oh, yes,” he said, his fingers wiggling in front of him. 

Rushing to the other side of the car, he got in and surveyed his surroundings. Adam had done a remarkable job. Even Crowley’s brimstone smell lingered inside, not that Aziraphale would point this out to him. Crowley didn’t much like his natural scent. It hewed too closely to the bowels of Hell for his liking. Aziraphale had been put off by it when they had first met. No angel smelled like charred wood. Yet by degrees, not only had he grown used to it, but he had begun to admire it and yearn for it when Crowley wasn’t around. 

With excited glee, Crowley turned the key in the ignition, crowing with delight at the sound of the engine coming to life. 

“Have you ever heard a more precious sound?” he asked, stroking the wheel with fond reverence.

Aziraphale could think of a few sounds that he liked better, namely the voice asking the question, but Crowley might find it too soppy if Aziraphale said so, so he just smiled fondly. 

Said smile was wiped from his face a moment later as Crowley pulled into the street, driving with his usual disregard for safety or sanity.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, gripping the door handle with trembling fingers. “If we’re dicorporated, they won’t give us new bodies.”

The car shook as Crowley took a razor-sharp turn to the left.

“Gabriel was pretty freaked out by the whole hellfire fiasco,” he said. “I’m sure you can intimidate him into giving you a new one.”

“Or we could skip that very unnecessary inconvenience by not getting killed in the car you just got back.”

A pained groan emanated from Crowley’s throat as he threw his head back in annoyance in his overdramatic fashion, but he did slow down. 

“Fine,” he whined. “I’ll drive like a tottering, old lady.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that meant, but Crowley began driving so sedately that other cars beeped at them and rushed to overtake them. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Aziraphale said, narrowing his eyes at Crowley.

“What?” Crowley said as innocently as could be. “You wanted me to drive slowly, so I’m driving slowly.”

For Heaven’s sake. 

Oh. No, not Heaven’s sake. Not that he wished ill on Heaven. It was just that…

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Aziraphale muttered, sounding more peeved than he’d meant to.

He faced the window, gazing at the buildings and people beyond. Heaven wanted to destroy them all. This wondrous creation filled with amazing life, the guiding light of his whole existence. Heaven was supposed to be good. How could it advocate senseless destruction?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Crowley asked. “You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything.”

If Crowley weren’t watching, Aziraphale would have shut his eyes and pressed his head against the cold windowpane. 

“I know, dearest,” he said instead, with yet another fake smile. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” 

He was sure that Crowley didn’t believe him, but Crowley let it be. Soon, they pulled up to the bookshop. Aziraphale’s breath left his lungs as he gazed up at it, his precious edifice that he had owned and lived in for 300 years. Oh, it was so good to be home. For this was his true home. Earth had been so for far longer than Heaven ever was. As soon as Crowley parked, Aziraphale hopped out the car and stood on the pavement, smiling up at the beautiful façade. Not a smudge, just like Crowley said. It looked exactly like Aziraphale had left it when he was so abruptly snatched away by the summoning circle and Sergeant Shadwell’s obnoxious meddling. 

“You have no idea how relieved I was to find it whole,” Crowley said, standing beside him. “When I saw it burning… It wasn’t good.”

The simple words disguised a world of sorrow. Crowley’s formerly happy tone dipped, his voice nearly swallowed in his throat, his shoulders tense as he dug his hands in his pockets. Aziraphale reached for him, squeezing his left hand. 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he said softly. 

Crowley squeezed back.

“It’s not your fault.”

Aziraphale’s throat ached.

“I can’t help but feel that it was. I’m the one who was foolish enough to not mind where I was stepping.”

As well as trying to contact God in the first place.

Taking his keys out of his pocket, Aziraphale rushed to the door and unlocked it, striding inside. The interior was just as undamaged as the outside, although it looked cleaner. Not that he was complaining. He had been rather remiss about clearing off the dust from the tops of the bookcases. Although he didn’t recall owning copies of the _William_ books by Richmal Crompton.

“Those are new,” he said, staring at the line of red, children’s books atop his desk. 

“That’s what I said,” Crowley said, close at his side. “There are a couple of other kid’s books, too, all very typically boyish. Not your kind of thing.”

Aziraphale picked up one of the books and perused the cover, then the first pages. It did look like it appealed to a particular juvenile, male mindset.

“I don’t think so, no. Still.” He looked at the copyright page. “They should be in keeping with the rest of the books in my collection, in which case they’re first editions. They might fetch a good price.”

“You mean you will actually deign to sell a book?” Crowley asked in mock shock.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at him, but without any heat. 

“Not from my collection, not if I can help it. Adam put these here, not me. And with the money I get from these I can buy more books.”

Smiling, Aziraphale put the book back where he found it and perused his desk, making sure that everything was in its place. 

His smile withered when he opened the right, desk drawer. Compliance Report Forms lied neatly arranged inside, waiting to be filled with the latest orders from Heaven. But there would be no more orders forthcoming. Heaven was done with him and he with them. He pulled out the forms, holding them in clenching hands. How many of these had he filled throughout the years? Far too many to count, all in blind faith that Heaven was in the right, that he was doing the right thing whether he agreed with them or not. He’d known, deep down, that it wasn’t always so, yet he had still pushed through his misgivings. So foolish. So deeply, deeply foolish. 

“There’s no more sense keeping these,” he said, surprised by the bitterness in his voice.

Crowley leaned forward to take a look and grimaced.

“I’ve got to get rid of mine, too. I’m so glad I never have to fill one of those again.”

“Me, too,” Aziraphale said, but he didn’t feel glad. The resentful feeling clawing at his throat as he threw the papers in the bin, shredding them into dust in the process, was certainly not gladness. He caught sight of the gold ring on his little finger, his signet ring. This metallic pair of wings had encircled his finger since his promotion to principality 3000 years ago.

“I was so happy when I got this,” he said, turning his hand over, gazing at the ring from every angle. “So proud. I considered it a reward for good work. I’ve never been ambitious, as you know, but the recognition was nice. Or so I thought. If only I’d stopped to consider that the people giving it to me were just using me for their own ends.”

“You did do good, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, leaning closer. “They can’t take that away from you. It doesn’t matter what they think.”

“Not now, no, but it did. It mattered so much. Why should it matter so much? It shouldn’t, should it? But I couldn’t… I didn’t…” It was getting hard to breathe. “I couldn’t disobey. I couldn’t consider Heaven’s true motivations. But that’s a lie. You questioned things. Ten million angels did. Well, most of them I certainly wouldn’t take my cues from, but you… I knew you weren’t a bad person. I would have never been friends with you if you were, so why couldn’t your word be enough when you told me, you begged me to stop and think that something was wrong in the way that Heaven is run? Why? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have clung to these stupid prejudices. I should have just believed you.”

“It’s okay,” Crowley said. “You don’t have to apologize. You got there in the end, didn’t you? That’s the important thing.”

Crowley’s voice faded into the background as Aziraphale took off his ring and stared at it, the metal poking into his clutching fingers. 

“I don’t want this anymore,” he said.

Just as quickly, it was gone. Aziraphale disintegrated it into its composite atoms. He hadn’t meant to do that. It happened without a thought.

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale brushed past him toward the medal hanging on the wall in a wooden frame. Gabriel had given it to him, a reward for a job well done. It had been meant to come with a promotion, but he would have had to leave Earth. In fact, they were forcing him to leave. He hadn’t even had a choice. It was only through Crowley’s quick thinking that he was allowed to stay. 

“If you hadn’t scared Gabriel into letting me stay,” Aziraphale said, plucking the medal from the wall, “I would have had to leave my home. I would have been miserable in Heaven. I never felt like I quite fit in there. Which I thought was ludicrous. I was created there. It was my first home. How could I not belong? But I don’t. I never have.”

Crowley was watching him with concern, cautious, hands hanging tensely at his sides. Aziraphale scrunched his face. He was worrying Crowley. That was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn’t hold this back anymore. It was drowning him. This feeling of insufficiency. Of stupidity. Of despair. 

“I kept this,” he continued, voice trembling, “as much as a memento of what you did for me as for pride over being recognized by Heaven. By Gabriel, no less, who is so hard to please. Can you believe how much I wanted to look good in his eyes? Even after he patronized me, called me fat, judged me for moving my hands too much, for eating. The way he disdained it, you’d think I was engaging in something impure, that I was polluting my body by consuming human food. That’s what he called it. He said that he wouldn’t sully the temple of his celestial soul with gross matter. He probably thought me diseased or something for eating. Can you believe that?”

“From Mr. I’m the Greatest Thing Ever?” Crowley said, attempting to sound cheerful, but not quite getting there. “Of course I do. But forget about him. Why don’t we sit down? Have a cuppa?”

Aziraphale clutched the medal's frame to his chest. 

“You’re just trying to calm me down.”

Crowley sighed.

“I’m not. Ranting is good. You need to get it out. But it would be better if you weren’t gripping that frame hard enough to break it.” 

What? Aziraphale looked down. Oh, dear. A crack had splintered through the glass from where his right thumb pressed against it. 

“I…” Aziraphale uttered, at a sudden loss for words. “I wasn’t aware. I… Look, I…” He squeezed his mouth. Why were words suddenly so difficult? “I’m angry. I’ve been feeling wretched since before we left the Ritz. I lied about feeling fine.”

“I know.”

Crowley laid gentle hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders, rubbing along his upper arms, the motion soothing. Aziraphale sagged forward, his strings cut. It was the perfect metaphor. Principality Aziraphale: Heavenly Puppet Extraordinaire. Crowley tugged the desk chair toward Aziraphale and nudged him onto it. Aziraphale sank down gratefully, immensely weary. He placed the frame on the desk. Slivers of glass came off in his fingers. He winced, shaking them off and dropping his head in his hands. He breathed in shallow gasps, the dark feeling squeezing so hard in his skull that he felt as if a weight were pressing down upon him. Quickly fetching another chair, Crowley pulled it up beside Aziraphale and wrapped his left arm around his shoulders. Aziraphale sank into his shoulder and hugged him around the waist, moaning, needing his touch like he’d never needed anything in his life. 

“It’s okay to be angry,” Crowley said, stroking Aziraphale’s back. “It’d be weird if you weren’t. Heaven treated you like shit. They deserve all of your ire, believe me. Curse them all you want. I’ll join in. But you don’t need to feel bad about not taking my word for what they really are. I made it sound like rebelling was easy. It wasn’t. I’ve always told you that I didn’t mean to do it.”

“I know,” Aziraphale moaned into Crowley’s shoulder. “But you still found the strength to do it.”

“Nah, it wasn’t strength. Lucifer led me by the nose. I had no idea what would happen. I thought, maybe, we might improve conditions up in Heaven. Knock Gabriel and Michael’s dictatorial tendencies down a peg or two. I had no idea that we would be cast out. I don’t know that I would have done anything if I’d known that.”

Aziraphale raised his head, frowning at Crowley.

“But,” he said, “you said that you would have asked questions anyway.”

“Yeah, well. I talk big sometimes. You know that. I mean, I would have asked questions, but in my own head. Maybe to you if we’d known each other and I wasn’t afraid that you would rat me out. My point is, don’t go on feeling bad about not doing it yourself. It’s not worth it being a demon. You have the best of both worlds now. You’re still an angel, but you don’t have to deal with Heaven’s pompous arses anymore.”

“Am I still an angel? An angel that doesn’t work for Heaven? Is that actually possible?”

Crowley shrugged. 

“I’m a demon that doesn’t work for Hell. If you weren’t an angel, holy water would have burned you to smithereens, but you’re fine. Look, I understand. I do. I went through this same existential crisis, not knowing who the heaven I was. It is going to take time. But you’re not fallen. You are an angel, Aziraphale. Heaven can’t take that away from you. And if God wanted to, she would have done it already, but she hasn’t. You will be okay, I promise you.”

Aziraphale frowned at the loving reassurance in Crowley’s eyes. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s back while placing his left hand on Aziraphale’s other shoulder to steady him, to ground him in this certainty that he seemed to feel but Aziraphale couldn’t grasp. 

“How can you be sure of that?” Aziraphale pleaded.

He didn’t mention that Crowley wasn’t alright. That over 6,000 years of banishment from Heaven hadn’t been enough to heal his wounded heart. That his pain ached so keenly that Aziraphale felt it without Crowley even being aware of it. Crowley wouldn’t appreciate him bringing that up. Nor were their situations exactly equivalent, were they? Crowley was right. God had not damned Aziraphale. The Metatron’s posturing aside, she must approve of them helping to avert Armageddon, or Aziraphale most certainly would be damned. Yet there were no guarantees. And Crowley hadn’t been forgiven or restored to the angelic spirit that he clearly missed. God’s actions were so seemly arbitrary, so fickle, so…

“It’s ineffable, isn’t it?” Crowley said.

Aziraphale gaped at him, his mouth dry. Crowley smiled gently.

“Come on,” he continued. “You’re the one who’s always going on about how God’s plan is ineffable. I always complained about it, but you were right. No one knows what the heaven God wants, and I for one have given up trying to figure it out. It’s a little ironic that you’re the one who wants certainty now instead of me.”

Groaning, Aziraphale fell against the backrest and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes bleary. 

“I don’t know. I don’t trust my own judgment at the moment. It’s been wrong for too long.”

“You weren’t wrong about God’s plan being ineffable.”

Aziraphale sighed, his fingers wiggling in his lap.

“I suppose not. But I should have known about heaven. It’s so transparent. They’re such…”

A nasty insult stuck to the roof of Aziraphale’s mouth. Even now that Heaven had tried to murder him, it was so hard to use such language.

“Knobs?” Crowley helpfully supplied.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, deflating. “That. They’re b… bad people.”

Crowley raised a curious brow.

“That’s not the word you wanted to say, was it?”

Narrowing his eyes at him, Aziraphale scrunched up his face and steeled his spine.

“Bastards!” 

His breath stopped in his throat, his eyes wide. He hadn’t meant to shout. Oh, my. Crowley was gaping at him like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. 

“They’re b-bastards,” Aziraphale repeated, tongue slowly itself around the word, a bizarre, light feeling of freedom enveloping his limbs. “That’s what they are. Bastards.”

It was easier this time.

“Poncy bastards.”

Aziraphale grinned.

“Okay, I think that’s enough swearing for now,” Crowley said, alarmed. 

“Why? Heaven isn’t watching anymore. I can say whatever I want. Bollocks. Ooh.” Aziraphale wiggled. “I got a thrill.”

Wiggling, Aziraphale hopped to his feet and grabbed the medal.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked, looking like he couldn’t decide whether to be frightened or excited. 

“Finishing what I started. I’m getting rid of all traces of Heaven. I don’t want anything to do with it. Don’t worry, I’m not about to have a nervous breakdown. At least, I don’t think so. Well, we’ll see. But I need to do this. You have to see that I do.”

Crowley stood up and laid his hands atop Aziraphale’s on the frame, gazing earnestly into his eyes.

“I know you do,” he said. “I’m not going to stop you. Anything you need.”

Tightness ached in Aziraphale’s throat, the airy feeling from before fleeing into the night. Goodness, that was sudden. The frame trembled in his hands as he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Yes,” he rasped. 

Without needing to focus much, the frame and medal in his hands disintegrated. The instant that it did, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s left hand and tugged him toward the circular rug at the center of the shop. Kicking an edge over, he revealed the summoning circle he had painted after acquiring the building 300 years ago. He had inscribed it painstakingly by hand. There were no shortcuts allowed in summoning circles, and he wanted no delays in case he ever needed to communicate with Heaven. As it turned out, he really had had no time to spare, although he shouldn’t have bothered, as it had turned out to be a disaster. Although the Metatron might have been lying about God’s true wishes, or perhaps simply didn’t know. It wasn’t like God actually told anyone anything. She just did things and gave orders. At one point, she stopped saying anything at all and simply let Heaven carry on. 

Really, how had Aziraphale not seen that Heaven couldn’t possibly be following God’s wishes when she wasn’t communicating what those were in the first place? It made no sense. Now he understood all those writers who protested that God was amusing himself with them for his own ends. Aziraphale had never felt used before. Not really. Not as long as he didn’t stop to think about it, which was never, because that would be questioning God and his fellow angels and that was unacceptable. 

Aziraphale’s breath stopped in his throat, his whole body shaking with a horrifying realization. 

“It was all part of the ineffable plan, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale asked. “The war in Heaven. Half of our number, you, becoming demons.” Aziraphale looked up, meeting Crowley’s hesitant eyes. “The system on Earth was engineered so that humans had, have, to make choices, between good and evil. They can’t do that if there’s only Heaven. Which isn’t as good as I thought, but that’s not the point.”

“I know what you’re getting at.” 

Crowley sank onto the floor, crossing his legs, looking as exhausted as Aziraphale felt. He brushed a hand through his hair, rubbing his scalp with a harsh grip. Aziraphale followed his lead, wrapping his arms around his legs, which he tugged up to his chest. He truly was a fool. Of course Crowley knew. He must have spent every day since he was banished from Heaven haunted by the probability. 

“I tried to make light of it,” Crowley said, “back in Eden when I joked about doing the right thing, but I figured that it had to be part of God’s plan. Else it didn’t make any sense. How was humanity supposed to grow stuck in a walled-up enclosure? They had to get out. Explore. Populate the planet we made. Hell was just trying to be devious by sending me up here, and I went straight for the biggest prohibition that God had set for the humans. But really, if God didn’t want a tree of hers touched, she would have put it somewhere else. So she clearly did. Maybe it wouldn’t have been me who prompted them, but the humans would have gotten to the tree eventually. You hit the nail right on the head saying that it was all part of God’s plan, but neither of us knew how much of a mindfuck it really is.”

Aziraphale sank his face into his knees.

“I had thought of it a bit. Alright, more than a bit. But Heaven and I were always supposed to be on the good side. Any good that resulted from a demon’s nefarious action was merely an accident. But even the bad in the world is intentional, isn’t it? The four horsemen wouldn’t exist without it, for one thing. Including the one that retired. All these pieces were necessary to get us here, all of us game pieces on a chessboard. If the war between Heaven, Hell, and humanity occurs, that will be the result of the same thing. Do we even have free will? Are all our actions directed by the Almighty? Why won’t she tell us? I never thought that we were meant to stew in doubt like humanity does.”

“That’s all I ever do, angel.”

Crowley flashed him a grim smile, casting his eyes at the skylight above. 

“I was cast out,” he continued, “as a necessity. An easy scapegoat. Half of us had to go. I was just one of the unlucky ones who was stupid enough to listen to Lucifer for half a second. It didn’t matter what I wanted, whether I’m good or evil or any of that nonsense. Why bother making us angels in the first place? Why not go straight to demonhood? Spare us the pain of drowning in sulfur while our spirits are remade from the inside out, the memories of Heaven making us bitter and resentful? It’s all a game, angel. Like a sadist ripping the legs off a spider.”

Aziraphale raised his head as Crowley spoke, his heart aching more with every word. His throat clenched, eyes stinging as he got up and rushed to Crowley’s side, wrapping him up in his arms. Crowley leaned into him, gripping his back, fingers digging in, his breathing sharp and shallow on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, dearest,” Aziraphale said, insides burning with shame. “I have done you wrong.”

Crowley pushed himself upright and frowned at Aziraphale, confused.

“What? What the heaven are you going on about? You haven’t done anything. Its God’s fault. God’s and Heaven’s. All of it.”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“I assumed you had done something to deserve being banished from Heaven. I knew you were a good person, deep down, so I figured that you made a mistake, but I still believed that you had done something that couldn’t be anything but wrong. But asking questions isn’t wrong. It’s what I should have done.”

Crowley groaned.

“We covered this already. You’re much better off not having rebelled. And so what if you were wrong about asking questions not being, well, wrong? It doesn’t matter. I always knew what crazy ideas you had in your head. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I appreciate that, but it doesn’t erase the fact that I thought the worst of you. That I didn’t trust you as I should have. I lied to you about knowing the location of the Antichrist. I didn’t tell you what book Anathema had left behind in your car. I believed that it was wrong to associate with you, that my duty was more important than you, than us.”

Aziraphale’s voice cracked. He couldn’t bear to look at Crowley, to risk seeing disdain in formerly loving eyes. Crowley had every right to reject him and call him out for his treachery. Why hadn’t he? 

“It’s okay,” Crowley said.

“How? How can it be okay? You deserve so much better than that.”

“I’m a demon. You’re an angel who doesn’t like questioning things. You think I didn’t know what I was in for?”

“That doesn’t excuse what I did.”

Crowley sat back and dropped his head in his hands, sucking in a deep breath. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat, fear icing his belly. 

“I forgive you,” Crowley said, raising his head, his eyes filled with pain and anger. “You don’t need to apologize to me anymore.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to object, but Crowley stopped him, a hand raised to ward him off.

“Oi!” he cried. “What did I just say? No more apologizing. I appreciate it, I do, but I don’t want to hear it right now. I don’t want you to feel bad.”

“How can I not when I hurt you? Don’t deny that I didn’t. I know I did.”

Crowley dropped his head in his hands again, groaning. He sprang to his feet and paced around the room, one hand sliding down to cover his mouth while the other crooked at his hip. Aziraphale stood up, but he didn’t dare move from his position. Crowley wouldn’t leave, would he? Not after they had just found each other again. But could Aziraphale blame him if he did? Truly? 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, helpless.

Crowley stopped in his tracks and rounded on him.

“Fine, it hurt when you dumped me, alright? I always hoped that we were on the same side, even if you pretended otherwise. That when it came down to it, you would choose me first, but I was afraid that it wouldn’t be the case. You always held yourself at a distance from me. I’m the demon. The bad one. I was angry. I could hardly drive straight afterward, I was so shaken up.”

Tears stung Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Crowley, I’m so sorry.”

“Let me finish, please. You want me to be angry at you? Okay, then, I’ll be angry. Except that I’m not.” Crowley stretched out his arms, shaking his head, a helpless breath huffing out of his throat. “I’m not. How can I be angry at you for being you? I’m the one who should have known better. You already denied me eleven years ago when I asked you to help me avert Armageddon. I should have known, when it came down to it, that you would choose Heaven. That I wouldn’t be enough. Why would I be? I’m everything you hate.”

“No.” Aziraphale stepped forward and grabbed Crowley’s right hand, fearing that Crowley would pull away, but he stared at Aziraphale’s hand, his expression lost and confused. “There’s nothing about you that I hate. Nothing.”

A sardonic smile twisted Crowley’s face.

“Maybe not now that you’ve had your eyes opened, but you certainly have for the last 6,000 years. Our friendship has always been conditional. Not on my side, but on yours, yeah. You proved that.”

Shame burned in Aziraphale’s soul. He wasn’t worthy to hold Crowley’s hand, to be comforted by him. What a selfish wretch he was.

“Then how can you say that I don’t need to apologize?” he asked, his voice shrinking in his throat. 

For the longest time, Crowley said nothing. He just stared at Aziraphale, who cast his face down, too mortified to meet his eyes. He tried to remove his offending hand from Crowley’s, but Crowley latched on fast, holding him still. He pressed his left hand to Aziraphale’s cheek, drawing him in with both his hold and gaze. Aziraphale didn’t dare breathe, transfixed and beholden by the aching look in Crowley’s eyes, which was so intense that he yearned to squirm away and press himself closer at the same time, another apology springing to his lips, but he dared not utter it. 

“I came back here,” Crowley said, “after you rejected me. I wasn’t willing to give up on you. If you truly thought me so inferior to you, so vile, you wouldn’t have been my companion for 6,000 years. You wouldn’t have agreed to enter the Arrangement with me, or let me bless people in your stead. Or tempt people in mine. You were in pain when you pushed me away. I could feel it. If you insist that I not hold you blameless, then fine, I won’t. You said those words, but it was Heaven you were parroting. Heaven coerced you, made you doubt yourself, has abused you your entire life, made you believe that the only noble existence was following their rules. But you never have. I could always make you see where they were wrong, in the end. You always resisted it, but you have also been resisting them, in bits and pieces, fighting back against this nonsense they stuffed your head with. That’s what rejected me back at the bandstand. Them. I knew that if I gave you enough time, you would come around and think your own thoughts, not theirs. If you had been here and rejected me again, I would have just come back again. Which I would have done even if you hadn’t called me. I knew already that you were willing to work with me again, but I would have come anyway even if you hadn’t. I always will”

Tears slipped down Aziraphale’s cheeks, his breath shuddering, limbs trembling.

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. “I haven’t earned it.”

“Of course you have. Since the very beginning. You didn’t have to be nice to me back at Eden. I’d just gotten your precious humans kicked out into the wilderness.”

“It was common courtesy.”

“Common courtesy? Would any other angel have done that?”

Aziraphale fidgeted.

“I would hope so, but probably not.”

“Of course not.”

“I still haven’t been as good a friend to you as you deserve. I need to do better. I will, if you’ll let me.”

Crowley sighed, his shoulders sagging dramatically as if Aziraphale were being ridiculously difficult instead of reasonably sincere. 

“Of course I’ll bloody let you. That’s what I’ve been saying. I forgave you already. I wasn’t just saying that so we could move on. I really do forgive you.”

Crowley rubbed his thumb across Aziraphale’s jaw, making him tremble. Breath shaking, Aziraphale raised Crowley’s hand to his lips and kissed it, pressing all his love and apology into his skin. Crowley’s left hand squeezed Aziraphale’s nape, brushing up into his hair, eyes soft and tender.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, daring to meet Crowley’s eyes.

Crowley blinked twice in quick succession and cleared his throat. He nodded, his lips squeezing together before pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek.

“You’re welcome, you silly angel,” he said, voice thick as he wrapped Aziraphale up in a hug. 

Aziraphale sank into it, the darkness inside him beginning to loosen at last.


End file.
